


We Have All The Time We Need

by C4t1l1n4



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Go To The Coast, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, Sirens, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4
Summary: WhydoesJaskier always want to go to the coast?OrJaskier is a part siren, and just doesn’t know it, hidden from him by his family. Having a monster for a child is not acceptable in a royal court, after all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 380





	We Have All The Time We Need

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read, played, or watched the Witcher, so I don't actually know anything about Siren lore in his universe... sorry if it's all incorrect.

When they finally make their way to the coast, Jaskier runs straight into the water, shoes abandoned on the shore, lute placed carefully out of the water’s reach.

“Jaskier,” Geralt calls. “Wait. We don’t know what could be in these waters.”

Jaskier shrugs. “Get over here then, Witcher. I want to explore.”

Geralt huffs but wades in after him, shoes and armor ditched on the sand next to Jaskier’s things. Jaskier takes it as a sign that it’s okay to move, and continues splashing out into the sea. He gets about waist height before stopping. Geralt pauses next to him. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Jaskier exclaims, excitement lighting up his cornflower eyes. He continues to ramble, and Geralt just watches, content. The ocean breeze wraps around them, twisting itself among locks of winter hair, pulling them into the air. Jaskier is smiling the entire time. 

This is nice, Geralt thinks. He may not be fully dressed in his armor, but he still has some weapons with him, he knows better than to be too trusting. 

His eyes scan, narrow and lingering near ripples that appear but yards away. This is why he doesn’t play in the water for fun, Geralt thinks, even the ocean is dangerous. Jaskier seems to have no qualms, however, and commits to getting his entire outfit wet, diving headfirst into the water, laughter floating up from his mouth. 

Geralt waits a few seconds, bubbles popping along the surface of the water. 

Jaskier doesn’t resurface. 

——  
Jaskier dives into the water delighted to finally make it here. To the coast. He’s been trying to get here for so long, he feels like, and wonders why it was so important, why he hasn’t come here sooner. He’s about to head back up to the surface, bug Geralt maybe, ask him if he’s ever been before, but something latches onto his ankle. 

Eyes wide, his gaze is immediately drawn down, and he is face to face with a siren. She is not alone. Other hands grab his arms and tug at the fabric of his shirt and he is quickly pulled away, deeper into the ocean. Air escapes his lungs as they swim with terrifying speed and Jaskier reflexively takes a deep breath, trying to fill his aching lungs with air. The only thing he draws in, however, is murky seawater. He coughs and wonders if it’s worth fighting in the first place if the sirens are just going to kill him anyway, but his body fights regardless, trying to hold on to what little life he has left. 

They don’t go far before Jaskier is shoved onto some little island, and he rolls over, gagging, purging all the water from his lungs. When he rights himself once more, greedily taking air into his lungs, his head spins, but he can distantly see the shore, and wonders if Geralt is okay. He’s so distracted by his thinking, he doesn’t notice the sirens surround him, heads poking out of the water. 

“Brother.” One of them says, the one with hair like fire, who had pulled him under in the first place. 

“Excuse me, what?” Jaskier manages, ever so elegantly, but the siren doesn’t seem put off. 

“It has been a while since we’ve seen you. Queen mother has missed you.”

Jaskier splutters, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “Uh, ah, right. What?” 

The sirens are ever patient, calm faces unwavering. “We wondered why it took you so long to return to the sea.” Another says quietly, from off to his right. “But we are willing to hear your explanation now.”

Jaskier glances over to her, where she stares back at him hopefully. “Umm, about that.” He gives off a strained laugh. “I… don’t know.” And it’s as he says that when he realizes, he really doesn’t know. Not only what these sirens are talking about, of course, but why he's put off coming to the coast for so long. He begins speaking his thoughts out loud, confusion lining his voice. “I don’t know. I've always been drawn to the sea, always wanted to come here. I just… didn’t. My parents… they weren’t big fans, I guess so I just, I don’t know.” 

A snarl draws him away from where he stares, pondering, at the sand. “He doesn’t even smell of the sea anymore.” A siren off to his left scoffs, “He doesn’t belong here.”

“Don’t let Queen mother hear you say that.” The red-haired siren reprimands and the other swims away, splashing water with his tail to show his anger. 

“Don’t mind him,” The siren on his right reassures. 

“Right. Of course. Have to admit… A little confused. I’m not a siren?” It comes out more like a question than a statement. 

“Of course you are.” They comfort, “Half siren or not, you are still one of the children of Queen mother.” 

“We heard your voice from the shore. Singing with that instrument. With a voice like that, you are indisputably a siren, even if it holds no thraw in that form.”

“But I don’t look like you.” Jaskier protests weakly. 

The red-haired siren nods encouragingly, “As a half-siren, who must stay in royal court among other humans, it’s only natural that you would appear human most of the time. You will only look like us in seawater.”

Jaskier nods and half can’t believe that he’s trusting what they say. Yet, somewhere, deep down, there’s a strain of familiarity, and he knows they’re telling the truth. 

“The Witcher!” The second siren hisses and Jaskier looks out to see Geralt getting closer. “He will be a nuisance, try to hurt us. I will take care of him.” She tries to swim away, but Jaskier is on his feet before she even finished speaking, splashing out into the water and grabbing her arm, preventing her from going anywhere. 

“He’s mine.” Jaskier hisses before he’s even processed what he was going to say, eyes narrow and teeth suddenly sharp.

The red-haired siren laughs, and Jaskier thinks she must be the oldest. “You certainly have Siren in you. We are protective of our prey, and our mates.” 

Jaskier refuses to think about what that implies. 

“He thinks we are a threat to you.” The other siren snaps back, wrenching herself free, but makes no move to go after him. “Get him to leave us alone.” 

Jaskier huffs, but stands, knee-deep in water. “Geralt!” He calls. The Witcher’s golden eyes snap to his. “Stay there.” He makes a ’stop’ motion with his hands. “They won’t hurt me unless you get close.” Jaskier knows that’s a lie, it seems, these sirens - his sisters, mind you - don’t really plan on hurting him at all. Geralt opens his mouth to protest, but Jaskier cuts him off. “I’ll come to you.” 

He wades into the water further, past the sirens, but stops before getting to Geralt, turning back to face his sisters. “You think I’ll transform?” He asks, and then suddenly wonders how much of this Geral has heard, with his enchanted Witcher hearing. 

“Of course, little one.” The red-haired siren is gentle now, swimming closer to the bard, while the other keeps her eyes suspiciously trained on Geralt. “But you are young. It will take longer since it is your first time.” 

Jaskier treads water for a little bit, and Geralt starts to make his way closer, drawing a hiss from the other siren. “It’s fine,” Jaskier reassures. “I’m fine. Just- just wait a second.” He calls. 

And then, he feels it. 

He looks down to see webbing form between his fingers and his two legs that he had been using to keep himself above water slowly merge into one. Suddenly, Jaskier feels like he doesn’t know how to swim, a yelp escaping from his throat as his head disappears underwater. The red-haired siren is right beside him, and lifts him back above the surface, effortlessly keeping both of them afloat. 

Then he feels it, a tearing pain in his neck, and his ears ringing. Almost as soon as it starts, it stops, and Jaskier feels like he’s had cotton in his eyes his entire life, and it’s finally been removed for the first time. He can hear so much clearer, so much more, and stares over at his sister in shock. He moves his webbed hands up to his neck to feel the gills there now and blinks, feeling so confused and so complete at the same time. Finally, he blinks a couple of times, his vision getting blurry before getting a whole lot more clear, and suddenly he can see the Witcher perfectly, even though he is yards away. His back aches, growing heavy with added weight, and wings sprout, lovely, thin, and a sparkling blue. 

“Geralt!” He cries, diving underwater, and feeling free, swimming faster and with more ease then he ever has before. “Holy shit.” He pops his head above the water, excitement lining his cornflower eyes, dripping with every honied word of his voice. “I’m part siren. Those are my sisters,” He motions vaguely back to where he left them. “Apparently I’m one of the Queen Mother’s children, so that means I’m double royalty.” He babbles on, long tail subconsciously curling around Geralt’s legs and helping him stay afloat. “Isn’t that cool? Like, how could I go my entire life without knowing I’m part siren?” He meets Geralt’s gaze and suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been dumped on him. “Geralt?”

“You’re part siren.” Geralt says, half a question and half a statement as if the Witcher himself doesn’t understand. 

“Yeah. I know that sounds weird, but it feels right and makes sense, and I mean, look at me.” There’s a pause. Neither of them says anything. “Is- is that okay?” 

Geralt doesn’t say anything, just looks Jaskier up and down, conflicted.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks again, hurt creeping into his voice, reaching out to get his attention. Gerald doesn’t move, doesn’t seem afraid, but seems to still be processing. Jaskier rests his hand against the Witcher’s chest, pulling himself closer before quickly jerking away like he’d been burned. “Geral- Ow!” He exclaims, cradling his arm close to his chest. 

Concern immediately seeps into the Witcher’s golden eyes, and he grabs Jaskier’s arm, looking him over for injuries. A large red welt appears, staining his smooth skin. 

“Silver.” A voice off to the side says. They turn to see the other two sirens had gotten closer, alarmed at the sound of pain. Her gaze flickers to Geralt’s medallion, where it vibrates on his chest. 

“He’s not safe with that Witcher.” The other siren snarls, but the red-haired one silences her with a look. 

“That is his choice.” 

“It’s never hurt me before.” Jaskier points out, confused. 

“But it will when you’re like this.” Geralt muses.

“Is me being like this… okay?” The bard asks, unsure. 

“I’m not going to kill you, Jaskier. Never was. This information is just new and surprising.” 

Jaskier relaxes, leaning against the Witcher carefully, Geralt tucking the medallion under his shirt. 

“We will let you be.” The red-haired siren speaks up again. “Take your Witcher to shore, Jaskier.” She says softly. “Do not let him drown. We hope you will come back to visit us again, stay longer, and perhaps even visit Queen mother, but for now take care of your mate, Jaskier. Come see us soon, little one.” And with that, the two sirens disappear under the water without a trace, leaving a blushing Jaskier in their wake. 

Geralt raises an eyebrow, amused. “Little one?” 

Jaskier uncurls his tail, letting Geralt fall into the water without his help to keep him afloat. Geralt comes spluttering up to the surface, finding Jaskier with a grin on his face, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Come on. Wouldn’t want you to drown out here, little Witcher.” He teases, grabbing the Geralt’s hand and spinning through the water with surprising ease. 

They make it back to the shoreline faster than Jaskier would’ve liked, but it’s getting late, and they still have a ways to travel before they make it to the next town, so Jaskier drags himself up onto the beach. 

“Since we have time,” Geralt says, glancing to where Jaskier sits, waiting to dry off. “Why did they call you little one?”

Jaskier huffs but complies. “Apparently I am very young, in siren years, at least.” He pauses, “How long do sirens live?”

Geralt shrugs. “Until they’re killed.”

Jaskier’s jaw drops, “Does that mean I’ll look like this, young and pretty, forever?” 

“I’d assume so.” 

Jaskier splutters at the thought of immortality and the implication of Geralt’s words. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Sure.” Geralt says as if it’s nothing.

Jaskier stares at him, dumbfounded. “You won’t even acknowledge that we’re friends, but now you’re saying I’m pretty?”

“Before, I thought you were human. My attachment to you would’ve been a problem. Humans die. If you’re a siren, half or not, and are immortal, then it’s not a problem.” 

The air around them is shockingly silent for the next couple minutes. A lot has happened in the past hour or so and Jaskier needs time to process. “Well if that’s the case,” the mischievous smile has worked its way back onto the bard’s face, “and we have time…” Geralt knows exactly where this is going. 

“You’re insatiable.” He huffs, but settles himself closer, drawing his bard into his lap.

“I’ve also been told that Sirens are protective of what they consider theirs,” Jaskier informs between kisses. 

“Possessive, even.” Geralt agrees. 

“It seems I’ll be a very jealous lover.” 

“So am I.”

“Good to know.” 

The bard hums against his lips as they kiss once more. There’s no need to rush it, after all. 

They have all the time in the world.


End file.
